Residuals

I wonder these days about hauntings.

To be honest, I've never thought about hauntings much -- I grew up knowing they happen. It's only recently that I've been wondering about the details and operation of the act of haunting.

I want to think that Rex is somewhere else, healthy, happy, unworried. For all my loneliness and lostness, I don't want him to be lingering here, taking care of me/us/things. I want him to be at peace.

That said, spirit or not, something of him does linger here,
Every room is infused with his presence.
Especially this front room where he spent all his time the last months of his life.

There's a concept, in paranormal circles, of residual haunting.
The definition is something like a recording that plays, over and over. A lot of legendary ghosts seem to be residuals. They do the same things, say the same things, are in the same places, time after time. All the white ladies gliding down stairways (even, in some cases, when the stairway is no longer in that part of the room). All the Weeping Widows wandering the garden paths. Crying babies and angry men. Sounds of swords clashing and battleaxes slashing on a peaceful sunny day.

Some are video recordings, some are audio only.

There's a presence here, Rex's presence. It is impressed upon the house; imbued into the walls.
Now this may be true only for me or for us. When we go, so may that presence.
(And then we will know a different measure of loss and loneliness, but that's another topic for another day.)

I think I can live with this.
I think his presence can be here, while his spirit is not.
Just as his voice or his image could be on a recording. (If I had any. My little  recluse.)
Playing the recording would not mean he was here, just that he had been.




I just hope I am right about it.

Welcome Armaggedon

I think it is time.
The world should end.
For all of us.

The only reason I can't end my own world is because I can't inflict that pain on Hailey. I can't even wish for my world to end, because I can't inflict that pain on Hailey.

But if the world itself came to an end, Hailey would be there, too.
No pain for her, whatever there might be in the next world.

If there is such a thing.

She could see her Mammaw Candy
She could run and laugh and play with her Pappaw. She could hold his hand and they could walk to the park together.
Something she has wished for.

And Warren, he could get to know his Pappaw. The man he brought smiles to, the man who had him laughing. The man he called first "a-a" and then "yaya" while now, months later, none of us have names yet.
The man who lit up when the boy was put in his arms.
The light of love and the light of happiness.
Laughter is oh so much that same light.


For myself, I want NOTHING.
Rest and peace and nothing.

I am broken.
I have been broken for a very long time.
I have been broken so long that I doubt I can be fixed.

Those that would fix me can't; those that could fix me (maybe) won't.

And it really doesn't matter.

But if the world were to end, the whole world, we could all be NOT sorry, NOT guilty, NOT alone;abandoned;hurting.


But, for now, the world goes on.
There will be yet another endless tomorrow.
And another.

Christmas is Coming, Full steam

This year Christmas will be a mess. It will be sad, because of Rex's absence. I'm already missing the shopping marathon -- the one day of the year he would go out and do some real shopping. How he enjoyed buying things! Although he admittedly never cared for the shopping part of it.
He never cared for a lot of the associated things. He liked watching the kids open presents. He liked buying presents. He liked when his other daughter would visit, and was often hurt that he was alone in that. He liked having a good buffet laid out. (He would have preferred a meal, but with no set time for visitors and visiting, he came to appreciate the cold cut tray and the veggie tray and the devilled eggs. He loved his devilled eggs. Even when they weren't so tasty.

Anyway, Christmas will be different this year for us.

The biggest difference will be the gifts not here for the kids. Well, for Hailey. Warren's never had a Christmas, so he won't miss anything. Hailey will miss it for him, though. She knows how it's supposed to be.
I do have some things put away for the kids, and will spend a little to get some things. I have one substantial gift for Babby, bought before the Bad Thing happened. I'm hoping to find something equal for Hailey-Girl.
Don't know when, don't know how, but I have faith in the magicks of the Season. I've seen it all fall into place too many times. (Or seen what looked like disaster turn into the highlight of the day.)
Yes, I have faith, and I will keep my eyes open. And, I hope, my heart.

Christmas is coming for me and for my girls, and for the babies, and for the whole wide world, even those who call it by other names.

For us, here, even the weather has been doing its job in making spirits bright.
Snow and ice, ice and snow.
Lights reflecting and a frosty glow.
It's cold, cold, cold

We will welcome it with all the love we have to give.

That is what matters

Hopeless; Helpless; this cannot be me

I have been making my way through the world for a very long time. Sometimes successfully, sometimes not so much. But every day led me into a tomorrow and any time there were changes, I was there, doing my best to make the changes be the ones I wanted.
Or at least to go in a direction that somehow resembled something I wanted or could hope t turn into what I wanted.

It didn't bother me too much when I didn't find work right away when I first lost my job, three years ago this month. Oh, I still put in applications on a regular basis, even had a couple of interviews. No job.

No job, but I had plenty of work to do at home. Rex was getting sicker, and needed me there. The truth of this was borne out when he ended up in the hospital in February. When he came out, Tammy had moved out, Tracy was gone, and it was just the two of us, and we began the journey of returning him to reasonable health, and we had enough for the two of us.

With his medicines and all the changes, it was not enough for a while, and then I got a handle on it again.
And we were good.

Time and more changes, and Rex would get a little more sick and recover to a point of a little less well.
But he was here for me and I for him.

My computer crashed, was replaced, the newer one crashed. And was replaced. We lost Internet service and re-established a connection.

Tracy came back , left again, returned again. Tammy did well, had troubles, recovered and slipped again, but maintained her home. Tammy had another baby.

And the baby was born, and Tracy was here, and once every couple of weeks I would fill out job applications, and no one was interested in hiring me. That was okay, because we were getting by and spending time together.
It was all we could do and we did it.

And then he died, and the whole world stopped.
The income stopped, but the bills did not.
The presence stopped, but life didn't.

I have filled out job applications  at least twice a week. Most places do not take paper in person applications anymore, which works out well when you can't afford to buy gas to go from place to place.

I've never had so much trouble trying to get a job.

And I don't know what else to do.
I just don't.
What else is there? If you have any ideas, please let me know.

I am not helpless. I CAN work; I WILL work.
But someone needs to hire me.

I'm not helpless, but hope is dwindling fast.
Nothing in my life is as it should be.
Nothing.

And I don't know what to do.
Or how to do more.

This cannot be me.
I do not give in to circumstance.
I learn to work with it.

I CAN learn to work with it; I WILL learn to work with it.

Hopeless; helpless; This cannot be me. This will not be me.

Good Bye, my Love. Farewell

Yesterday, we said formal good-byes to my Rex.
I won't say final good-bye, because, for me, there is no finality. There's always a qualifier.
Until we meet again
In this lifetime

For others, who did not live with him daily or minute by minute, the farewell is more final. That's okay. Good-bye is not Gone Forever. They will have their own memories and cherished moments. There will be times when something reminds them of the time "Rex and I" did such-and-such . There will be times when they think I must call Rex, and then remember that they can't.
Over and over they may have heart-stopping moments like that.

I had thought at first to have a viewing, a visitation. I had found out that I could, and decided to do so.
But I woke in the night with Rex's thoughts in mine, and what he was saying was that he didn't want people staring at him.
That is so exactly what Rex would say, how he would feel, that I could not ignore it. There would be no staring at the empty body.

The service was another problem. Rex was rampantly anti-preacher. He'd want no part of a preaching.
How does one have a funeral without a preacher, or perhaps some trained motivational speaker or something?

One returns to the traditions of funeral speaking -- those who loved; those who knew the deceased. The fond farewell from loved ones.

My sisters spoke, for him, and our daughter's spouse.Together we worked on things to be said -- a brief bio of the man Rex was, and a speaking of how he lived.

There were two things important to me. Rex was not religious. As I said, he was against anything that smacked of preaching. But the way he lived his life was so Godly, in many ways ; so very Christian.
"Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you have done unto me."

Rex lived that.
It wasn't easy.
He agonized over issues; over should he or shouldn't he; over is it best.
Sometimes he shouldn't.
Sometimes it isn't best.

But it was the right thing to do.
So, however reluctantly, however unwisely, he would choose the right way of doing things.
Just because.

Already one daughter is following that example. (The other hasn't had much chance.)

Rex was no Christian as the world and the organized churches see Christian.
But he led a Christian life.
He had a Christ-like soul.

and there's nothing more to say.